Trunk In Love
by LuckiiBeckii
Summary: A little exercise in a dialogue-free one shot. What really went on in the trunk that night with Daryl and Beth. Could become several one-shots in a similar vein if you lovelies review! Bethyl Beth/Daryl


Panting, the two finally made it out of the trees and Beth couldn't hide her relief at the road sprawled in front of them. An abandoned car wasn't too far off either. They both went right to work, scavenging everything they could off the old relic, from mirrors to hubcaps, to taillights and glass. Anything and everything was usable in some capacity. It was also nice to stop running for a bit.

But just as they'd almost finished shoving their salvage into their bags, the telltale quiet filled the air, followed just as quickly by the loud shuffling and the growls.

Their decision to get into the trunk was something that neither of them needed to verbally communicate. The panic in their eyes spoke volumes. They dropped their bags and bolted.

She practically threw herself inside the tiny trunk, closely followed by her older companion and hunkered as far back against the car's backseat as she could while he tied the trunk shut with some loose twine.

Her heart was racing, racing, racing out of her chest. The trunk smelled like burnt rubber and gas and sweat and dirt, mostly coming off of them. The groans and shuffling drowned out the sound of their labored breathing. She felt sick as the thud and sliding of bodies met the sides of the car and shook it on it's deflated wheels.

Pain started inching up her neck at her awkward position. They'd been in the trunk for barely an hour. And more were coming. Scant moonlight filtered in through the tiny gap in the trunk door and cut a swath across her face and Daryl's. He wasn't' watching the door anymore. He was just watching her.

Eyes big and still half delirious with fear that they would both be walker bait soon, she couldn't focus on why this was strange. So she never gave it a second thought. The eye contact was weirdly comforting in a way, since she knew hers were as huge as a deer's caught in headlights and his were half lidded like they always were, calm and collected even in the face of danger.

He didn't have to speak to communicate with her. Slowly, her irises dilated back in and her breathing slowed back down to normal.

Less bodies were sliding against the car now. Only stragglers left of the herd were there to moan and groan their way across the road. But neither of them was really ready to step outside that little bubble and try to find a more comfortable place to spend the night. It was safe in there, and safety was what they most needed when it was dark outside.

Beth tried to sleep. She closed her eyes once or twice, before being awoken by a bead of sweat sliding down from her forehead over her eye or lips. She pulled up her shirt to wipe at her face but it wouldn't be long before the heat inside the trunk would pick up again. A slight breeze could be felt from the trunk opening so she readjusted herself a bit to get her face closer, jostling Daryl's leg.

He looked over at her, not in annoyance, but more in concern. She nodded, a simple indicator that she was ok, and pressed her nose up against the opening, relishing in the cool, damp summer air. Once she sat back she saw he was doing it too, nostrils flaring as he tried to get to the fresh oxygen.

It was probably safe to talk by now, but she really didn't feel much like talking. The trunk didn't afford them much room and to even get close to lying down and resting her sore neck she'd have to sprawl her legs a bit on top of Daryl's, and she wasn't sure he'd be ok with that.

After another half hour she decided she didn't care and readjusted herself, her feet and calves curling back on themselves as much as she could get them to, but they still lay right across Daryl's thighs. He gave a startled grunt, but she ignored him and turned over, just grateful for the chance to rest her neck.

The floor of the trunk had a rough carpet to it that started to burn her face so she cupped her cheek and tried to sleep. This time she succeeded, and passed out for a good two hours before something woke her up again. A weight on her leg.

She looked up and let her eyes adjust to the half-dim light inside the trunk. Daryl had apparently also fallen asleep, and his left hand-the one not holding his crossbow steady- had fallen slack across her leg. She couldn't help it. She smiled. It had been a very long time since she'd managed to catch Daryl Dixon sleeping, and it was always a sight to behold.

Always so gruff and stern in real life, in sleep, his face seemed to completely loosen up, all the furrows and lines vanishing into blissful nothingness. For a moment she could have sworn she saw a glimpse of the young boy he must've been once, more naïve about the world and more trusting. Someone who still believed there must be good people out there somewhere.

But just as she was enjoying the moment, it ended. He woke up and saw her watching and with another low grunt, shoved her legs off of his and forced her back into a sitting position. She sighed.

Sweat quickly gathered on her face again but daylight was beginning to filter in now from the gap in the trunk. They both listened closely for 20 more minutes before Daryl finally undid the trunk tie and they both tumbled out into the open air.

The cramps in her legs and neck sang a victorious chant at their freedom, but all she could manage was a bleary eyed look at her traveling companion. He seemed to share that 'good morning' sentiment and stared back for a beat as if the sun was in his eyes, and then just took off walking. Beth sighed again before following and figured if this is what life was going to be like from now on, she may even forget what her own voice sounded like.

**Author's Note: I don't know where this is going. I just wanted to try and write a fic without dialogue and I always wondered what went on in the trunk that night. Might evolve into one shots. Bethyl 5ever.**


End file.
